


Better Things

by Pie_pecans_and_parrots



Series: Chaos [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Charlotte Henderson - Freeform, Dreams and Nightmares, Dustin Henderson is a Good Friend, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Friendship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Mild Language, Mini Fic, Missing Scene, Monsters, One Big Happy Family, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Steve Harrington, Will Byers Needs a Hug, Young Love, requests open
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:51:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pie_pecans_and_parrots/pseuds/Pie_pecans_and_parrots
Summary: A collection of missing moments and memories from Charlotte Henderson's misadventures in Hawkins and beyond.Part of the Strange Chaos series.





	1. Better

Charlotte was used to waking up alone – and she was used to dealing with the remnants of nightmares alone. They were snatches of images, memories – sometimes full episodes of old horror, sometimes sick remixes powered by her paranoia and imagination. Loss and blood and breaking. Breaking _her_ over and _over_ again. It was hard to dismiss the fantastical monsters she saw because now, she knew that anything was possible – the worst of fiction born in an alternate dimension that she had only just survived.

It was still strange to her, that sometimes, she didn’t have to go through it by herself.

Steve didn’t wake – he slept like the dead when he was _really_ tired, and after playing babysitter today they were both exhausted – but as if he could sense the disturbance, could hear her racing heart and her heaving breath, he pulled her closer. Her single bed meant that they were squashed together anyway – so she ended up with her face in his neck, his arm tight around her torso, anchoring her to him, to reality.

He was warm, nothing like the cold of the Upside Down.

Here, breathing in deep calming gulps of air, caught between him and the outside world – she felt a little better.  

Her digital clock read 3:09 am.

Slowly, she felt herself relax – but it was hard to be lulled back to sleep, still unable to fight the anxiety when she thought about what she might see when she closed her eyes. The people she loved most often had starring roles in her nightmares, and it was probably the worst thing about them. She could relive her own pain, even go through her own death – but watching the others…

_That hurt the most._

Steve made a snuffling sound beside her – and she snuggled further into him.

He was there with her.

She couldn’t lose him – not now.

Charlotte matched her breathing to his – trying to copy his peace.

She didn’t remember falling back asleep.

 

* * *

 

She almost always woke up before him – and today was no exception.

Charlotte sat up – carefully extracting herself from the tangle of limbs they always found themselves in – and manoeuvred her way out of the bed noiselessly. She took a minute to look back at him, fondly. He always looked so soft in the morning. Sleeping, he looked years younger, hair flopping over his face and mouth slack.

Sometimes it was hard to associate this soft boy with the Steve she had known and knew. To her, this little warm moment was precious – and it felt like it might melt away if she wasn’t careful – and that’s why she never woke him, to stay in that little suspended moment of time.

“Why’re you staring at me?” his sleepy voice made her realise that he was squinting at her, only one eye cracked open.

Charlotte rolled her eyes and turned away. “Just wondering if you were still drooling.”

“I do not!”

She stifled a laugh at the sound of him flipping and wiping the pillow. He didn’t, but he just made it too easy.

“How’d you sleep?”

She heard him get up – and continued to fish for a shirt in her drawer, carefully ignoring his question.

“Lottie?”

She turned to face him, noting immediately his concerned face, and the way his hands had already propped themselves on his hips. She schooled her features into what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Fine! Like a baby.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know you’re a terrible liar.”

She scowled at him, and pulled her shirt over her head. “Am not.”

“Well… maybe not. But I know your tells.” He smirked smugly, before shaking his head slightly. “But that’s not the point… what did I tell you?”

_Wake him if you have a nightmare…_

Charlotte ducked her head, instead focussing hard on the dark orange stripes on her rug. Like hell she would. She wasn’t a baby – and besides, he had nightmares too, but he didn’t need to be coddled – and she wasn’t worth disturbing his sleep over. It wasn’t real, she _knew_ that. “I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re my girl.” Steve said matter-of-factly. She couldn’t deny the faint thrill that went through her at his words – as cheesy and sappy as it was. “Lottie…”

“ _Steve_ …” she mimicked, well, _childishly._ She met his eyes again, defiantly. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are – you’re the strong – but you don’t need to prove it to _me_. I know. I _know_ , Lottie. Just let me help.” He stepped closer to her, and took her hand – the ugly one, scars crisscrossing and marring her skin from her palm to her shoulder. Gently he lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the white scar across her palm. She swayed slightly, into him.

“You’re a cheesy motherfucker, Steve Harrington.” She breathed, blinking at his radiance – backlit by the morning sun from her window and looking utterly impossible. He smiled slowly, eyes shining at her.

“You love it.”

“I love _you_.” She said firmly. “And you do help. You always make it better, whether you’re awake or not.”

Steve held her gaze, searching her eyes for something, before he sighed softly, and pressed another quick kiss to her hand before tugging her closer. He wrapped his arms around her, just as tightly as his unconscious grip from the night before. She lent into him, fisting her hands in the cotton of his shirt. “I love you too.” He muttered against her hair, and Charlotte closed her eyes, breathing in that familiar Steve-scent that he left on her sheets, and on a sweater she had stolen.

 _Better_.


	2. Merry Christmas

Steve couldn't help but let the sour feelings rise in his stomach as he listened to his parents shouting about something downstairs. He threw his baseball up again, but misjudged the distance - and he failed to catch it. He swore as it rolled away from his bed - stopping under his window on the other side of the room. He heaved himself up.

 

" _Why_ _can't_ _we_ _just_ _have_ _a_ _nice_ _Christmas_ , _Gary_?"

 

" _You're_ _the_ _one_ _who_ _invited_ _your_ _mother_ \- _to_ _our_ _Christmas_ _lunch_ \- _without_ _asking_!"

 

Ah. He should have known.

 

His mother's family was a sore spot for his father - and was often a cause of the countless arguments that plagued his house. But he did think they could have lasted through Christmas Eve without a verbal explosion.

 

He was wrong - obviously. He'd been wrong a lot lately.

 

Nancy filled his mind - her face quickly replaced with her. He had been wrong about that too. Even though they had been friends through some fucked up shit - had been flirting - and then had finally kissed; somehow he had gotten the whole thing wrong.

 

He hadn't seen her since the Snow Ball. Didn't know if he'd see her again.

 

He threw the ball up again, bouncing it against the window in front of him.

 

It made a clack so loud he yelped, and rushed forwards to check if he had cracked the glass. As he leaned forwards - something else clacked just before his eyes. Steve jumped.

 

It happened again - someone was throwing rocks at his window. The oddness of the situation made him pause - brow creasing. In his momentary lapse of movement - a whole handful of stones cascaded off of the window and he sprung into action, throwing open his window and yelling;

 

"What the fu-"

 

He choked on nothing as he made eye contact with the assailant.

 

Charlie stood there, one hand half outstretched - holding more stones. Her face was half sheepish - half hopeful.

 

She looked beautiful - the Christmas lights shining green and red across her face, painting her in a strange glow. She was wearing a blue dress he hadn't seen before, and had on matching boots. She wasn't wearing a coat and her skin was dusted with snowflakes.

 

"Steve, I-"

 

He shut the window and stepped away - heart hammering. What the fuck.

 

* * *

 

Charlie’s stomach dropped as he stepped away from his closed window and disappeared into his room. She was too late. She'd fucked it.

 

Angrily, she cast aside the stones in her hand - ignoring both the tear that slipped down her cheek, and the violent shiver that racked her frame. She should have brought a coat. She turned away from his house and looked towards her mom's car.

 

"Charlie."

 

She whirled, hair coming loose from the low bun she'd hastily tucked it in.

 

He was standing in the snow, looking adorably ridiculous with his pyjama pants tucked into gumboots, and a blanket around his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" He asked. She couldn't read his tone.

 

"I came to see you." She took a hesitant step towards him, heart thudding hopefully.

 

"It's late." He said softly. He didn't move as she took another step.

 

"I know. But I had to see you." She paused a few feet away - not knowing how her presence would be received. "Steve. I'm sorry."

 

He blinked. Blinked - and looked positively, absolutely, and entirely taken aback. "Sorry-?"

 

She rushed on. "I'm sorry I didn't go all the way with this dumb plan and bring a juke box or some other cheesy shit - and I'm sorry that I call it cheesy shit, because I know you like it. I'm sorry I came so late, and I'm sorry you came outside in the cold. I'm sorry that I can't emote properly, and that I call your hair dumb - because I actually think it's hot-" she flushed, "I'm sorry that I don't like to show you anything I write - but it's because it's about you and I'm scared. But most of all," He moved this time, and she tried not to let herself get too hopeful. "Most of all, I am sorry I haven’t spoken to you since the dance. Because I'm a coward. Because I was afraid for you to know how I feel, and I thought that if you had looked me in the eyes - after that... you would have seen me."

 

"Tell me how you feel, Lottie." He murmured. He was right in front of her now. He gently touched her chin, pushing her head up to meet his gaze. "Let me see."

 

"Steve fucking Harrington." She said breathlessly, heartbeat so loud she thought he might hear it. "I think I'm falling. I'm falling for you." She whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve kissed her then, and her face was cold - her lips finding his easily - perfectly.

 

"...I'm falling for you..."

 

He felt warmth bubble up inside of him, turning his insides to liquid. She leant into him, fitting against him so perfectly, making his chest pang.

 

Gently, so gently, he ran his hands down her sides, wrapping his arms around her waist. She wasn't able to run this time. But as her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him even closer to her, Steve knew he didn't have to worry about that again.

 

It was her shivers that made him break the kiss. He pulled away, smiling at the sight of a snowflake alighting on her eyelashes as she opened her eyes. His smile fell as she shivered again. Her dress had no sleeves and fell above her knees. "You're cold." He said lowly, and wrapped the blanket he had brought out around the two of them.

 

They stood there in the darkness - only illuminated by his Christmas lights. Eventually she stopped shaking, and turned her face up towards him, stepping out of the circle of warmth.

 

The smile on her face was the one that belonged to only him. Small and sweet. Genuine. "Merry Christmas, Stevie."

 

She turned to go, caramel brown hair blowing back with a wind. "Wait!" He called.

 

She turned, smirking now. "I would stay - but somehow I feel like missing Christmas morning for hot steamy sex is wrong."

 

He sputtered for a second as she laughed at herself and his reaction. Finally he recovered enough to cough, and steady himself. "Will I see you soon?"

 

"Yes. Of course, Steven." She started walking towards her mom's car. "I have to give you your present in person." She called over her shoulder.


End file.
